


Painted On My Heart

by 1sweetmoment



Category: Wolverine (2009), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Angrboda, F/M, Fenrir - Freeform, Mutants, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1sweetmoment/pseuds/1sweetmoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been seven years since Logan lost his memory and he continues on his trek to recovering anything that he can. Along his journey he meets a plethora of different characters, each able to chip pieces away from the strong wall he has built to keep himself guarded. But one particular woman who proves to be eerily similar yet so different, will literally come crashing into his life. Will he be able to recover his lost memories, or will his inner animal be too distracted by something that may be even more wild than himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted On My Heart

I am running. No reason, really. Just running. There is barely a sound as each of my feet collide with the ground. The soft ground, giving to my weight, leaving nothing behind but the paw prints that would lead to my position. But I don't care. I'm only running for the sheer joy. The feel of the breeze catching in my fur, cascading in waves down my back. The sight of the trees, only a blur as I slip past.

I can smell the sap of the aspens and the dying leaves of the willows. The reeking smell of sweat comes from yards away, coating the back of a yearling grazing in the meadow. I can hear feathers ruffle as a blue jay preens himself, and the sound of an air bubble surfacing after escaping from the lips of a toad in the still waters of a nearby pond. It is nearing mid-fall, and I can smell the dying grass, the berries gathered by the bear as he prepares for his long slumber, and the newly lain asphalt of the interstate freeway.

I keep running.

...

I head into a nearby town that I have been frequenting for several weeks now. The local bar is almost empty. Typical, even for a Friday night. I step in, removing my cotton sweater and take a seat at the table in the far corner where the lights are dim and the smells of the kitchen are hardly recognized. The bartender, who has come to know my face, nods his head and approaches my table.

"The usual?" he asks in almost a whisper. I don't believe I have ever heard him raise the volume of his soft voice.

I simply nod and flash a smile.

A moment later, he returns with a whiskey on the rocks. I lay a five dollar bill on the table and retrieve the glass, the ice cubes clicking as I move. The liquid burns when it reaches my throat, and I can feel the heat as it travels down into my stomach. After a sip, I hold the glass to my nose, eyes closed, taking in the potent aroma. Any sinus congestion, gone. Just one taste or smell of this elixir, and it's as if I'd never smelled a day in my life until this moment.

...

I am running again, but this time for a reason.

My stomach growled vigorously, impatiently. Going days without food can begin to take it's toll in the most inconvenient circumstances, and sometimes, unexpectedly. Especially depending on what kind of life you lead. In my case, I need to make sure that I pay attention. I have two lifestyles to feed, and it is dire that I listen to my stomach.

I had been targeting a ranch in the area a few nights a week, picking off chickens and sometimes small pigs. But tonight, I was in the mood for something different. Something gamy. I was in the mood for a chase.

I certainly have the strength and stamina to take down larger prey, such as deer, or even elk, but with only one belly to feed and nowhere of my own to store the leftover meat, it would only be a waste of energy. Not to mention, I'd rather not attract another predator or some filthy scavenger. I'm rarely in the mood for a fight.

Silently and effortlessly, I practically float through the forest. I am a dark ghost against the night shadows. Light clouds of breath crawl from my nose as I keep my heart beat steady. I wait patiently, listening.

And then, it happens. I hear blades of dead grass being pushed aside and crushed into the ground. I turn to view the poor soul who had just committed this deadly mistake. Before me, merely twenty yards, crouched a lone hare. His nose reached the sky and his ears twitched in every direction, while his heart beat rapidly. He sensed that danger was near.

I moved closer, my eyes fixed on the animal, practically drooling over the thought of quieting the growling of my stomach. I made it only a pounce away when he turned and ran for his life. I was quickly on his trail, only feet behind.

He darted around trees, over roots, under fallen branches, through hedges, searching frantically for somewhere to hide, but he would have no luck. I quickly caught up as the terrain flattened, and lunged, catching his neck and the back of his head in my jaws. One quick squeeze, and the sound of shattering bones rang through the West side of the mountain. The rabbit went limp. I began to rip and tear, the taste of warm blood spilling onto my gums. It was just as effective and intoxicating as whiskey, sending shivers down my spine, then warming my body. The taste of his flesh was addictive, and I feasted through the night until picking his bones clean.

...

I am at the bar, this time sipping on a mug of beer, thinking that my time to move on to the next town was approaching. It is another weekend, and there are a few more people in than usual.

I meet a man named Benjamin. He tells me to call him Bear, I'm guessing due to his abnormally large size. He tells me he is a rancher which I also guessed. The pungent smell of urine and animal sweat stained his dirty denim overalls, but there was a sweet scent of wheat and oats that countered. I held onto that for as long as I could.

Bear's voice was as grizzly as his stature. His bass octave beat in my ears while he spoke of his years in the mountains. He continued to comment on my looks, constantly gushing about how beautiful I was, and how he had never seen such blue like the color of my eyes. I giggled softly, just to amuse. He was as friendly as small town folk get, which isn't saying much. Not one person has caught my interest in any way for many years now. That had a lot to do with my moving around. And I never hit cities. That was too risky, for various reasons.

An hour and three beers later, Bear began to complain to me about his late encounters with a menace on his ranch.

"This dang animal is stealin' my livestock." he drawled. "Damn black devil. Watched 'em make off with one a my pigs other week."

I cocked a brow "Really?" with mocked interest.

"Yes ma'am. Strange, too. We never get wolves round here." He murmured. "But I'll git 'em. Bought myself a shotgun other day. Next time I'll be waitin'." He exclaimed before pounding his lager and slamming the mug on the table.

I chuckled while making a mental note to not visit his ranch again. I also noted that it is just about time to get out of here. Maybe tomorrow, around noon, while the sun is bright and the air is cool.

...

I woke up early in the morning, curled up under saddle blankets in the back of one of the pickups parked at the inn. I stretched, yawned, and hopped out. It was a beautiful morning, and telling by the sun, I guessed it was after ten o'clock.

I entered the bar, for the last time I figured, and ordered a scrambled egg with toast. Moments later, my breakfast arrived at the table, and I ate slowly, sipping on a glass of water to go along with it. After finishing, I wiped the crumbs from my shirt and my lips, grabbed the plate and anything else I used, placing it at the counter. I lay a ten dollar bill next to it, and I was gone.

...

It had snowed the night before, so upon waking up and exiting the hollowed out tree I had laid to rest in, I was greeted with a frosty bite. The chilling wind nipped at my wet nose and the insides of my ears. I shook vigorously, trying to set free the leaves and ice and anything else that had found itself stuck to my fur. I let out a sigh and sat down, lifting a leg and cleaning. I always wanted to be clean, for reasons I couldn't fathom.

Upon finishing, I looked around at my surroundings. Everything was white. Everything. The branches of trees were weighted down by the mess. No grass peeked through the snow, bushes and hedges were barely seen. From what I could tell, there were no signs of life, either. Everyone was either in hibernation, or too lazy to face the cold on this morning.

I began to run. Nowhere in particular. I was just sure to leave the town I had left the day before behind me. Whatever I found before me, I would be happy to give it a chance. I kept running, bounding through snow, sometimes feeling slightly playful, so I would role around in a slosh of white, or pounce over the top of a mound. I always found a way to pass the time on my own.

After moments of this fun, I realized that my black coat was easily seen against the glaring white of the environment, so I figured it would be best to just keep moving for now, just in case. So I picked up a trot. The air was so thin and clean, that every time I took a deep breath, my lungs filled and felt completely rejuvenated. If these wolf lips could smile, I sure as hell would be showing how content I was feeling at this moment.

But that moment was lost just as quickly as it came. I was stopped, dead in my tracks. I can't explain what the feeling was, all except for the sound. That sound was by far the most frightening thing I had ever come to know. All it was was a loud crack. It was loud enough that birds, miles away, jumped from their safe havens and scattered about. I could hear the frantic pattering of their wings as they flew off in all different directions. It was loud enough that the ground almost seemed to shake. Just... CRACK!

I knew what it was, but I didn't know where. I was in too much shock. Then I realized... I'm not in pain. I didn't get hit.

I didn't even care if whoever it was that owned that gun knew I was present, I just ran. Away from that sound. As far as I could get from it. I also knew that I was approaching the interstate. But I didn't care. I could just hitch a ride if need be. I ran as the wolf, because I was faster on four legs. I just ran. But then, there was pain.

I tried to scream, but there was nothing but a blood curdling growl, followed by a pain stricken howl. I tried to cry, but I couldn't. I tried to comprehend what was going on, but I couldn't. It was my leg. It was in immense pain. I tried to run again, but I couldn't. I was stuck, and it just hurt my leg even more. It felt like it was being torn off. I calmed for a moment to look down, but this just made me lose it even more. It was a bear trap, it's jaws locked around my left front leg. Seeing this brutal device made me lose my grip on reality. I lost all human prospect. I was running on pure animal instinct now.

I pulled and I shook, and it tore and it ripped. It felt like my muscles themselves were getting plucked from my bones. I bore my teeth into my leg around the device, trying anything to slip out. What I hadn't realized was that I had pulled this contraption to it's full chain length. The chain length reached the interstate. I didn't feel the icy asphalt beneath my paws. I didn't hear the engine of the old truck, puttering down the street towards me. I didn't smell the burning oil, or the smoke of a cheap cigar. All that I cared about was that I was in pain, and that I couldn't get free.

But then, I heard the squeal of the tires as they hit a patch of ice and tried to avoid going into a skid.

I looked, and saw headlights.

And then darkness...


End file.
